


Next of Kin

by kowaiyoukai



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-08
Updated: 2009-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowaiyoukai/pseuds/kowaiyoukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker's being released from Arkham to his next of kin, who isn't actually related to him at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next of Kin

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Next of Kin 至親](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6987307) by [jls20011425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jls20011425/pseuds/jls20011425)



> Written for siriuslyyellow for the 2008 twelveknights.

Bruce opened one eye, slowly, at the sound of his alarm clock. There was no possible way it was eight in the morning already. He had only just laid down after sending a few more criminals to the police, his entire body ached, and if that damn alarm clock didn't shut up he was going to kill it. Slowly.

"Master Wayne, I'm afraid I have some… news."

Bruce looked up at Alfred, who was holding the newspaper out to him. He took the newspaper, hating the world and whatever could possibly have happened in the three hours he'd been asleep. His eyes scanned the paper quickly, and sure enough, the headline was all he needed to read.

**JOKER RELEASED INTO BILLIONAIRE'S CARE**

" _What_?!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They didn't find out the full story until the authorities came knocking on their door at just before noon. Apparently, each patient in Arkham had to fill out a paper with all of their vital information, and the Joker had put down Bruce Wayne as his next of kin. Every patient was required to show some form of ID to verify their information, but due to the Joker's status as a wanted criminal and to the fact that no one knew anything about his true identity, the nurse at the desk had simply let it slide. The next of kin was only ever contacted in case of emergency, and no one had assumed there would be any kind of emergency in which Bruce Wayne would need to be contacted.

However, not four months after Batman had left the Joker hanging for the police to capture, the doctors in Arkham all agreed that he was showing remarkable progress. He was friendlier, he took his medication without fuss, he helped the other patients when they needed it without being asked, he showed a renewed vigor and interest in his life and the lives of others. The doctors all agreed that the medication was all it took to cure him of whatever it was he had—none of them agreed on the diagnosis, but that didn't seem to matter at this point—so the next step was to integrate him into society. Of course, even with all of his progress, no one agreed to take him home, and the task fell to his next of kin.

When Bruce came into his living room to greet his guests, four people were sitting there. Commissioner Gordon, Dr. Harleen Quinzel (Head of Criminal Psychiatry), a nurse Bruce didn't recognize, and the Joker. Alfred offered tea and coffee to everyone, and after a few pleasantries had been exchanged Bruce finally had to ask what had been on his mind the entire time.

" _Why_ would you bring him here?" The question was directed at Commissioner Gordon, who really should have known better than to be a part of this madness, but it was Dr. Quinzel who answered.

"As we previously discussed, you _are_ his next of kin." Dr. Quinzel paused to sip her tea.

"Yes," Bruce interrupted, "I know that. But I'm not related to the man at all! I don't even know him." Bruce gestured at the Joker, who was looking around the room, inspecting the artwork and vases and all the other expensive artifacts artfully placed around the room. "Isn't there someone who would be better suited for this than me?"

Dr. Quinzel shook her head. "I understand your concern, but there's truly no cause for it. The Joker has shown massive improvement in therapy, and while on the drugs he's proven to be stable and actually quite sociable."

"But I'm not his next of kin!" Bruce shouted, throwing his hands up and gesticulating wildly.

"The paperwork says you are," she responded, coolly. "That's all we need to know."

Dr. Quinzel then handed Bruce a list of the Joker's medication, indicated the nurse, and said that a nurse from Arkham would be stopping by twice a day to administer the Joker's medication. However, Dr. Quinzel wanted Bruce to be aware of the list just in case the nurse couldn't make it, which was highly unlikely. She also gave Bruce a few bottles of each medication, which he immediately handed over to Alfred along with the list and all related materials and instructions. Alfred took them all silently, accepting his role without question.

Dr. Quinzel and the nurse left shortly afterwards, pleading work and patients to attend to, and Bruce was left with Gordon and the Joker. Gordon had remained silent throughout their conversation, but when Bruce looked at him the man finally spoke.

"I don't believe the Joker has changed." Gordon spoke with force, but quietly, and Bruce realized this was why he had waited until the two women had left. "Four months in therapy doesn't change someone that drastically. I don't care how good the drugs are."

"What are you saying?" Bruce asked, suddenly feeling a profound sense of dread.

Gordon stared at him briefly and then set his mouth in a thin line. He shoved his hand into his pocket and held out a card. Bruce reached out and took the card, glancing at it quickly before looking back at Gordon.

"All of my contact information is on there. Work and home phone, cell, e-mail, everything." Gordon's eyes grew cold. "It might not be useful if things get bad quickly. But if you ever feel like you're in danger, let me know. I'll come with backup immediately."

Bruce remained silent. It was true—if the Joker suddenly decided to become incredibly violent, there was nothing the police could do in time. In a way, it was lucky this job had fallen on the Bruce and not some ordinary citizen. Only Batman could stop the Joker quickly. Anyone else would be just another victim to add to the already long list.

"Thanks," Bruce said, nodding once. He slipped the card into his pocket. "I'll put you on speed dial."

Gordon gave a half-hearted smile. "You do that."

Bruce followed Gordon towards the door, both of them watching as the Joker studied a painting, tilting his head back and forth repeatedly. Gordon clasped Bruce on the shoulder and then left, practically dragging his feet forward with every step. Bruce understood why—Gordon believed he was sentencing a helpless man to be murdered. It was against the law to have police follow a person or surround premises without reason, and according to Arkham there was no reason to suspect the Joker of anything. Bruce again reminded himself it was better this task was left to him than to anyone else.

"Are they all go-nuh?"

Bruce turned to the Joker, who was leaning against the far wall staring at him. The man was in his purple suit, which seemed to be the only clothes he owned. A small suitcase of belongings had been brought along by the nurse—nothing dangerous, no knives or pencils or anything else that could be used to stab somebody. But the suitcase had only several decks of playing cards, a mask, and a few other odds and ends that Bruce couldn't determine why the Joker would even bother carrying them around. He hadn't brought along any other clothes, though.

"Why did you put me down as your next of kin?" Bruce asked.

The Joker grinned. His face was caked in make-up like always, and Bruce wanted to smack his head against the nearest wall to get rid of that smile.

" _You_ don't know?" The Joker shook his head and chuckled. "Well, I'm _not_ telling if you can't figure it ou-tuh."

There was nothing else he had to say to the Joker, so he turned around and left the room. He couldn't even imagine speaking normally to a man who he wanted to punch straight in the face on sight. He was surprised he had been able to stay in the same room for as long as he had. It was his ninja training, he thought. The ability to ignore his feelings for so long to get something done was all thanks to the ninja training.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Joker was actually not a huge pain to have around. It seemed that, on some level, the Joker understood that whatever Bruce decided was going to have a large impact on his future. So the Joker stayed basically out of the way, and when they passed each other an exchange of nods was the only real interaction they had.

Bruce liked it that way. The nurses and Alfred took care of the Joker's medication, Dr. Quinzel had a therapy session every day with him, and Bruce was left to do what he normally did. He played the role of the billionaire playboy and blithely shrugged off all the inquiries he got about what it was like living with the Joker. There wasn't really anything to say because nothing was going on. The Joker acted normally—he didn't seem overly violent or aggressive, and he was mockingly polite to Bruce, which was far more than Bruce would ever have dreamed of before.

There was still no explanation about why the Joker had put Bruce's name down. His first thought had been that the Joker knew he was Batman, and this was all some kind of game to him. But that was obviously impossible because if the Joker knew who he was, Bruce would have been arrested and locked up in Arkham right alongside him. His second thought was that the Joker put him down simply because he was disgustingly rich. The Joker might have thought he could buy whatever he wanted under Bruce's name and it would go unnoticed—which was probably true. His third thought was that there was no particular reason. Maybe the Joker had seen his name in a newspaper article or on television and remembered it when he needed to fill in the form. Maybe the Joker hadn't meant anything by his mysterious, cryptic comment and it was only meant to annoy and confuse Bruce.

None of his explanations really worked for him, and in the end it didn't matter why. What mattered was that the Joker was currently living with him and he needed to deal with it. Ignoring him probably wasn't the best way to go about the situation, but it was all Bruce could do. Every time he looked at the Joker he wanted to slam him up against the wall and beat him up until they were both panting and breathless from it. He didn't like being reminded of that feeling, so he stayed away from the Joker and everything he represented.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three weeks after the Joker arrived, Bruce came home from a particularly bad night sore and ready for sleep. He stumbled towards the kitchen, peeling off pieces of his armor as he went, desperate for a drink of water. Some punk had gotten close enough to strangle him with a length of cord, and his throat was still scratchy and in pain from the damage.

A glass of water was thrust in front of him. Bruce took it immediately, gulping down the entire drink within thirty seconds. His hand was shaking when he handed it back to Alfred. It was definitely time to go pass out.

"Here, let _me_."

Bruce recoiled at the voice and spun around, coming face-to-face with the Joker. Bruce stared at him, eyes wide. The Joker's face was bare, he was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, and in the dim light his scars were barely visible. He looked like someone else. Like someone normal.

The Joker grinned. "What, you were expectin-guh someone _else_?" He rolled his eyes and sighed over-dramatically. "I've _known_ about you being Bats for a while now. No need to ge-tuh suddenly crazy _about_ it."

Silence stretched on between them. The Joker was obviously waiting for something. Bruce didn't know what he could possibly say to his arch-nemesis helping him in the middle of the night in his own home.

"Why are you doing this?" Bruce asked, voice harsh from the pain in his throat and, possibly, something else he was good at avoiding.

The Joker tilted his head and studied Bruce for just over a minute. "You _really_ don't know, do you?" He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "I've been waitin-guh for someone like _you_ my whole life. _Now_ that you're here…" The Joker trailed off, shrugging. "I don't want to fu-kuh it up."

"You're a deranged psychopathic mass murderer bent on destroying everything," Bruce said, the words dripping off his tongue like acid. "You don't even know what you're saying."

" _Reform-duh_ deranged psychopathic _mass_ murderer bent on destroying everythin-guh," the Joke replied, grinning.

"It's just the drugs," Bruce said, shaking his head. "You'd be like how you were before if you weren't on the drugs."

The Joker's grin widened. "Wanna know a secre-tuh?"

"No."

The Joker chuckled. "I haven't taken a thing since I came here."

Bruce had no idea what to say to that, so he punched the Joker in the face. The Joker fell backwards, against the tiled floor, and raised a hand to his chin, rubbing it awkwardly.

"I don't need _them_ ," the Joker said, letting his hand fall. "I never neede-duh them."

Bruce moved quickly, energized by something he didn't want to examine. He got on top of the Joker, straddling him, and punched him again. The Joker grinned up at him and started laughing in that maniacal way that sent people running in the other direction. Bruce put a hand around the Joker's neck and tightened it.

"All I've ever needed was _you_ ," the Joker said, laughing.

Bruce leaned down and shoved his mouth over the Joker's in something that resembled an attack more than a kiss. The Joker opened his mouth and let Bruce bruise and bite as he wanted. After longer than Bruce would care to admit, he drew back and stared down at the Joker, who was breathless and looking up at him with glee dancing in his eyes.

"Is that what you wanted?" Bruce asked, struggling to think clearly.

The Joker simply laughed. He continued laughing as Bruce picked him up and carried him up the stairs to his bedroom, where they both fell asleep after discovering more ways they connected then Bruce had ever imagined.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At the end of the month there was a meeting with the doctors to determine the Joker's condition. The day after the meeting, during which the doctors had unanimously decided that the Joker had shown more improvement under Bruce Wayne's care than they had previously seen, Bruce once again had a few unexpected visitors. He looked at Dr. Quinzel in confusion.

"Well, since it worked so well for the Joker, and you seem sto be willing, we thought it wouldn't be a problem." Dr. Quinzel looked so pleased with her plan, sitting there with a wide grin on her face.

"Are you sure the Joker hasn't been a problem?" Commissioner Gordon asked. Dr. Quinzel looked at him in disapproval. "You can call any time, you know. Any time at all."

"He's been fine," Bruce said dismissively. He looked at Harvey Dent and Jonathan Crane sitting there on his couch and figured what the hell. "Alfred, set up two rooms," Bruce said in a resigned tone of voice. "It looks like we've got some more house guests."

 

_fin._


End file.
